


Crossing A Line

by ThatWildWolf



Category: Mass Effect (Video Games), Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - War, Awkward Romance, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cultural Differences, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, First Contact War, Forbidden Friendship, Forbidden Love, Interspecies Awkwardness, Interspecies Relationship(s), Language Barrier, Military Background, Military Science Fiction, POV Garrus Vakarian, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:55:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26300785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatWildWolf/pseuds/ThatWildWolf
Summary: First Contact War Shakarian AUin which Garrus finds a badly wounded human soldier but doesn't have the guts to kill her. Who ever said turians and humans have to be enemies?
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Comments: 14
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ah yes, every Shakarian writer's mandatory First Contact War AU fic... I had to. It's the law.

War was chaos.

Soldiers ran among the half-destroyed, burning buildings as if in a frenzy, desperately trying to stay alive and kill the enemy at the same time. Most of them didn't even know where they were. Most of them shot blindly, never saw the faces of the people they killed.

_It's different for a sniper_ , Garrus Vakarian thought as he reloaded his rifle. His vantage point gave him clear view of the battlefield. Unlike most soldiers on the street, he wasn't helpless.

He was good.

He knew he was good. He didn't waste bullets - every shot fired from his sniper rifle was one more dead human soldier on the ground. Those few who survived didn't come out unscathed, either.

Garrus didn't care for the entire Relay 314 Incident and he didn't care for the war with humans either. All intel suggested they may be close to evolving into an intelligent race or actually already were one, but there was too little information about them to know for sure. That was mostly why Garrus didn't really care for this war: what they were fighting was an unknown quantity.

Garrus looked through the scope of his rifle, following a human soldier characterized by a curious combination of dark skin and bright fringe and waited until it stopped.

He pulled the trigger and the human fell down.

Garrus didn't have enough time to be satisfied with his skill, because something shook the very foundation of the building he was hiding in.

 _Oh, damn it!_ One of the sides—he couldn't tell if it was the humans or the turians—must have set off explosives somewhere nearby.

Garrus grabbed his sniper rifle and, trusting in the maglocks, placed on his back before bursting into a sprint down the stairs.

The building was empty, but that didn't mean it was safe—especially as the shaking only got more intense instead of mellowing down. Garrus pressed himself to the wall to avoid being crushed by an especially large chunk of debris. He didn't hold back now, running at full speed, jumping down the stairs where he could, hoping to make it to the ground before the building collapsed.

 _Crap_. He didn't turn back as he sprinted onto the street outside. A turian soldier spotted him from several meters away, but he ignored her, running in the opposite direction.

The sound of an explosion sounded so close that Garrus winced, wanting to cover his auriculars from the terrible noise. The shockwave hit him at almost the same time, and it was enough to make him trip over and, carried by his momentum, be sent flying into the nearest building.

His head hit the wall with a low thud and that sound and feeling were the last things he registered before his consciousness was consumed by darkness.

* * *

Garrus groaned. The first sense that came to him was a splitting pain in the back of his head.

He wasn't the only one hurt in this explosion. A large splatter of blue blood adorned the street corner nearby, next to a large pile of debris. Garrus winced, painfully aware some poor soldier had been killed by being buried by those.

 _Could have been me_ , Garrus realized bitterly.

He shakily stood up and was glad to assess he hadn't been hurt badly—aside from the splitting pain in his skull, he felt quite fine.

He looked around and found his sniper rifle and one of his pistols on the sidewalk not that far away. He couldn't find his helmet anywhere, even though he was almost certain he had been wearing it the moment the explosion hit him.

He was slightly anxious when he tapped his temple with a talon, but his visor was still there, mostly intact.

Walking down the road, Garrus managed to find his other pistol. This had been thrown even farther away, but he was glad to have found it.

He vaulted over an overturned vehicle, turned left at an intersection, and almost fell over when he realized the human he was about to pass by was still breathing.

He stared, mesmerized, at the flaming red fringe that fell down its shoulders.

He had never seen a human from this close up.

He couldn't tell if this one was a male or a female—he had never been taught to tell the difference—but he didn't need to guess to know it was a soldier. It was clad in a dark set of heavy armor that covered its entire body aside from the head - he could see the helmet lying on the ground a few meters away, probably blown away in the explosion that had caused the human to bleed out so hard.

Their blood was a deep shade of crimson. Garrus almost shuddered—it was unnatural. Alien.

 _Of course it's alien,_ he chastised himself. _They're aliens._

He experimentally prodded the human with the hull of his sniper rifle, keeping his distance as best as possible. No reaction.

Now that he had shifted the human and moved its head, the crimson red fringe was no longer spread on its chest and no longer covered the N7 on their chestplate.

Garrus inhaled sharply. Crap!

Well, he couldn't just let this one _go_ now! Not that he had ever been intending to... Damn it! Of course it was an N7. Just his rotten luck. This was bad. This was bad.

He quickly flicked off the safety on his pistol and aimed at the human's head.

He exhaled slowly, steadying his breath. His hand had stopped shaking now.

The human didn't move. A steady rise and fall of its chest was the only sign it was alive at all.

There was no reaction. No self-preservation instinct. The human soldier was clearly unconscious.

"Oh, come on!" Garrus put his hands on the sides of his head. "Don't do this to me."

He aimed at the human again, this time gritting his fangs to keep his cool.

"Damn it!" He took his finger off the trigger. He couldn't. He couldn't just kill it when it was this helpless. It would be nothing short of murder.

He stood there, torn apart, not sure what he was going to do now. He could just leave it there, but with those wounds, it wouldn't live to see the next day. Might as well take the shot.

Garrus inhaled sharply. "I must be insane," he decided before holstering his pistol.

He picked the human up and was shocked by its weight. It wasn't anything he couldn't bear, but this small human was heavier than a turian. Even taking into account the heavy armor it was dressed in. He hadn't expected humans to weigh more than turians.

 _Maybe the gravity on their home planet is weaker than here,_ he thought. _Or maybe they have more body density... There's so much about them we don't know._

 _What in the hell are you doing?!_ he internally screamed at himself.

He wasn't sure what he was doing, actually. All he knew was this one was wounded and unconscious and while he was a soldier, he wasn't going to just shoot it when it couldn't defend itself.

His first few steps were directed towards the base, but he did a double-take when he realized he was carrying an enemy soldier with him. He couldn't bring it to the base—catching a human alive was a rare feat and he didn't doubt for a second that it would be tortured for information without second thought.

"What am I gonna do with you?" Garrus complained, angry now at himself that he couldn't just have the guts to shoot the human.

Then the answer hit him. This was a ghost town now—the front line of the war more than anything else.

He looked around, but there was no one in sight, turian or human. From here, he could easily make his way uptown, to the suburbs, and then...

Well, he hadn't quite planned that far just yet, but he knew that he would come up with it on the way.

* * *

Garrus set the human down, trying to be as gentle as possible. Their left arm was probably broken, bent in a way their other arm wouldn't, and there was a gunshot wound in their left side.

_I'm going to have to tend to that,_ Garrus realized. If he had come as far as getting the human here, he also had to make sure they didn't die.

He looked around the room. It was a basement in one of the abandoned houses in the suburbs and would make an amazing temporary holding cell for the human.

Garrus gathered all the pieces of old furniture he could find and arranged in a pile on the stone floor. A few tinders from his backpack and a firestarter did the trick, and he was rewarded with a very nice, albeit makeshift, campfire. Good. This would provide both heat and light for the human—and for the next part, _he_ would need light too.

The things he had used to dress the human soldier's wounds were some of his own bandages from his first aid kit as well as some torn-up clothes he had found in the house. It looked better than an open wound, but Garrus would have to get them better supplies or they wouldn't survive.

He noticed with surprise and aggravation that somewhere along the way, he started thinking of the human as a person. He tried to go back to referring to them as _it_ , but to no avail.

"Great," he growled, angry at himself. He threw another tinder into the fireplace. "The last thing I need is getting attached."

He stood up angrily. He checked the human's restraints and bandages. They probably wouldn't catch a cold next to the fire, but bleeding out was a different issue. He didn't know nearly enough about human anatomy to tend to the wounds professionally and in the end, he had just decided to clear and dress the wound as he would have on another turian or himself.

He hesitantly took the blanket he had been sitting on and put it over the human's shoulders, remembering that humans were supposedly homeothermic. _Now you won't freeze to death._

He took a step back to admire his handiwork. The small nest—that was the first word that came to his mind and he decided it was accurate—centered around the campfire looked kind of cozy, actually. He had tried to strip the human of their armor (he wasn't sure which parts were underarmor and which were garments, so he probably hadn't finished the job) and had laid it on the opposite side of the fire, in the human's sight but well out of their reach, just like their weapons. He hoped that seeing their belongings hadn't been taken away would calm the human once they awoke.

He tilted his head, taking the time to take a closer look at the human's face. _It looks like a female,_ he decided. Although honestly, he had no idea what the difference was. (He could look for mammary glands, but since humans stood upright, he wouldn't know where they would be located.) Still, calling the human _she_ instead of _they_ made him feel a bit more comfortable for some reason.

Garrus looked around. The human was bound to a few pipes that ran alongside the wall. There was very little chance she would be able to break free—and even then, the matter of her injuries remained.

He nodded, satisfied with this solution for now.

"I'll be right back," he said quietly before leaving the room and locking the door behind him.

* * *

Already at the door, Garrus could feel the change in the atmosphere. He had been gone a bit longer than he'd expected, but it hadn't been easy stealing supplies from his own camp. Morally. Logistically, it had been very easy.

He opened the door to the basement, hoping to get this done as soon as possible before—

Crap.

The human was awake.

When she noticed him, her entire body stiffened and she slowly moved as far away from the door as her restraints allowed, not taking her eyes off him for a second.

She noticed the handful of fresh towels, alcohol, and water he was carrying and a shadow of understanding passed her face. She continued watching him with apprehension, but it wasn't just straightforward hatred anymore.

Garrus was careful not to make any too sudden moves as he slowly made his way toward her. Not because she was scared, not in the slightest. If anything, the other way around - _he_ had no idea how she would react when startled.

He squatted something like a meter away from her.

"I need to change your bandages," he said slowly. He held up the towels to make his point. "You'll risk an infection if I don't."

She pursed her lips in a way that seemed almost defiant and stared at him. (Her eyes were green, Garrus noticed. Not the kind of green he usually associated with eye color, but deeper and darker—like emeralds or grass after long days of rain.) This silent battle of wills lasted for a few seconds, but eventually he couldn't bear the eye contact and looked away.

"I'm trying to help you," he said, enunciating every word as if that would somehow make her understand him.

The woman shifted, not taking her eyes off of him for even a second. She flexed her good hand and, much to his shock, brought up a primitive omnitool of some sort. It didn't look much like Garrus's own, but nonetheless it was proof the humans were much more advanced than the Hierarchy assumed.

"Er..." Garrus paused, not sure how to proceed. She was still badly wounded, definitely not in a condition that could threaten him, but the fact that she was acting so freely stressed him out. "What are you...?"

 _Oh._ The realization hit him hard. Oh, she was smart.

"Are you... trying to understand me? What I'm saying?" He knew his words had no meaning to her just as much as hers to him, but he felt slightly less silly when he didn't just stand there silently. "In that case, you'll need some data... I could talk. I mean, I _know_ I could."

She glanced up at him for just a moment before turning her attention back to her omnitool.

She said something, the intonation suggested it was a question.

"I wish we could communicate," Garrus said quickly. "It would be easier to understand one another if we understood what we're saying." _Great job, Vakarian._ He wanted to bang his head on the wall.

The human tilted her head. Her facial expression shifted.

"I'm Second Lieutenant Vakarian of the 35th Division." He spoke slowly as if to a small child and at the same time was aware of how it didn't affect their communication at all. "I'm not here to hurt you. As long as you don't hurt me, I'm going to be civil here, alright?"

She had no idea what he was saying, of course.

He sighed. "...Alright," he answered his own question, resigned.

He sat down on the opposite side of the fire. _This is absurd._

"You're an N7," he said. "Where's your squad? You were alone. I know you had to have a command. What happened to them?"

She looked at him with an expression he couldn't read, her green eyes reflecting the flickering embers of the dying fire in the pupils.

"I have no idea what you people eat," he continued. "I'm not going to give you dextro food, it's probably poison to you. But you need to eat or you'll starve to death. What kind of food do humans eat? You don't look like carnivores." He tilted his head, looking at her critically. No claws, no sharp teeth, nothing that would indicate her species was predatory. "No, definitely not. So probably some fruit, right?" He tried to remember what the intelligent herbivory species ate. Elcor diet consisted mostly of wild greens and roots... He looked at the human sitting in front of him and mentally tried to compare her to the image of an elcor. _Probably not._ "I could try to find something, but _we_ mostly eat meat. Not human meat," he added quickly, even though she didn't understand a single word of what he was saying. "You're safe. I'm not planning to hurt you."

She raised her eyebrows, looking at him pointedly.

For the first time, Garrus realized that while he had been rambling on, all the human heard was the same kind of gibberish _her_ speech was for _him_.

"Right." He sighed. "Listen, I will need to change your dressing."

She made a set of noises that by human standards were probably words. Garrus sat on his haunches, defeated.

Slowly and carefully, he handed her the towels he had brought, hoping this would make his intent clear to the woman. She slowly reached out for them with the same apprehension that had characterized her every movement since she'd first seen him and grabbed quickly.

Garrus cleared his throat, nodding his head at her wounded side. She followed his gaze, her eyes eventually resting on the sloppy dressing he had wrapped up from bandages and dirty cloth.

He moved away for her own comfort and watched in silence as she slowly took off the bandages, assessing her wound in a way that a turian could not. Every few seconds or so, she sent him strange looks, but he couldn't tell what emotions she was trying to convey by that. He doubted it was fear that drove her; so far she had made too much of a point of her defiance and pride.

When she got to changing the bandages, Garrus passed her the bottle of disinfectant he had stolen from camp. Ethyl alcohol, that should be universal enough.

She wrinkled her nose distrustfully.

"It's not poison," Garrus said.

The woman responded to that with a sentence in the human language.

She unscrewed the bottle and suspiciously took a deep sniff of the liquid inside. The way her face lightened suggested she was familiar with the substance.

She mumbled something which Garrus graciously decided to interpret as a thank-you.

He watched, curious, as she redid the dressing on her wound and was pleased to see his attempt hadn't been that far off.

She looked at him, narrowing her eyes slightly now. She tugged on the restraints on her left wrist, tilting her head suggestively.

"I can't," Garrus said, then reflected and shook his head to get the message across.

She pouted and wrinkled her nose.

He shrugged.

She rolled her eyes— _rolled her eyes!_ The nerve. Where was she getting all this spunk from? Garrus was pretty sure that had the roles been reversed, he wouldn't dare jump out of line.

She said something again, which sounded very similar to the last question she'd asked.

There was no way, Garrus realized, that he could keep this up. He either had to leave/kill her or come up with some way to communicate with her.

Garrus put a hand to his crest.

"I can't believe I'm going to steal a translator," he moaned.

* * *

"Fine." He set down the rectangular device on the table. "You can try this."

It was one of the translators they had been using to decrypt enemy messages. They were pretty common among officers on the front line by now, mostly because they weren't very reliable and only covered a small, militaristic lexicon of the human language.

The woman looked up at the sound of his voice, but she still made a point of looking at him as if she were the one in charge. (She was tied up and covered in bandages, for crying out loud!)

Garrus passed her the translator.

"It's for communication," he said slowly.

She shrugged her shoulders—he had no idea if that gesture existed in human culture or if she'd just picked it up from him, but she executed it perfectly.

He opened his mouth, but no words came to mind, so he closed it again.

"A translation device," he said after a long pause in which he tried to come up with some nonverbal way to explain what it was.

He grabbed the translator and slowly, pointedly, typed in the words _translation device_.

There was a long while of waiting while the message was processed and eventually displayed on the screen in strange human runes.

He passed it to the human.

She looked at him, then at the words on the screen, then again at him. The woman narrowed her eyebrows and he felt a sudden pang of fear.

She typed a string of symbols he couldn't begin to make sense of into the communicator.

Despite the situation being clearly in his favor, Garrus felt uneasy. What was the message? What was she going to demand from him? He'd heard stories about those N7 soldiers and he knew they were a whole other deal. Should he be scared? He kind of was already.

The translator gave a low beep when it finally decoded the primitively created message.

Garrus felt his throat tighten, especially since he didn't know enough about humans to read the woman's expression and guess her intent. Was this going to be a threat? A demand?

His heart racing, he opened the message.

THANK YOU FOR SAVING MY LIFE.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the overwhelming amount of feedback I received, this is no longer a one-shot :)

The human's name was Shepard. Garrus had no idea how to pronounce that - he had tried out a few ways and none sounded right.

She was apparently an important officer in their army—and that made the entire situation dangerous in a completely new way. She refused to give him her exact military rank, but he gathered it was high.

Yes, he had been correct in his assessment that she was a female.

No, Shepard was not her first name. It was Jane—a short string of letters that posed an even bigger headache for a turian trying to figure out the pronunciation.

 _His_ name was Vakarian. No, it wasn't his first name—that was Garrus. She repeatedly used the word "Roman" while inquiring about it. He didn't understand what the term meant, so she eventually dropped the subject.

No, he was not keeping her as a prisoner of war. He hadn't told anyone about her.

No, he didn't know why he had saved her. He didn't think and just did it.

Communication was difficult due to the surprisingly long amount of time a translation took, but they had managed to go back and forth with those questions. Garrus felt himself loosen up with every day he visited her, his fear of the very dangerous, very _human_ special ops soldier slowly melting away. Eventually, he stopped being scared altogether—not like she was any dangerous in her current state anyway—and his fear got replaced by burning curiosity.

He could see Shepard was also interested in him in the same way he was in her, even if she perhaps hid it better in her body language than he did.

Now that he finally had an outlet for his curiosity, he showered her with questions only a human could answer—but minded not to make it important things that she could suspect were intel gathered by the enemy. She didn't seem to be scared of him, not as far as he could tell, but he didn't want to risk their rapport.

She didn't know why their blood was red. It was the same for every other species on their home planet and she had never paid it any mind.

No, her red fringe— _hair_ was the word she used to describe it and Garrus thought to remember that new term for future reference—wasn't a common color among humans, neither male nor female.

She had never talked to a turian, either. She had assumed their species didn't have an intelligent form of speech (that assumption shocked Garrus more than it did hurt him) and he was the first she had ever seen so close up alive.

She didn't know why their hands had five digits. After he asked, she replied, amused, that she agreed with him that three was enough to get by.

After woking up the courage for a few long hours, he asked if she would be willing to work on a speech translator and she surprised him by agreeing.

So now, while Garrus was uploading the data files for the most common turian languages and dialects to her omnitool, Shepard observed him with some unnerving curiosity.

He felt her eyes on him even when she was supposedly focused on something else and he knew it was the same as with him. Their conversations might have been friendly, but their minds and bodies had been conditioned to think of possible ways to kill the other. Yes, he was genuinely interested in the way humans picked things up with their five-fingered hands, but he also simultaneously wondered how to use that fact to his advantage in combat. He couldn't help it. She was human.

But under all that, even if she had been an asari or, spirits have mercy, a turian, Garrus had to take notice that Shepard had a very keen and sharp mind and that in some twisted way, he actually _enjoyed_ talking to her. Almost like they were friends.

Which they obviously weren't because he was still keeping her tied up and she was still glaring at him with some disdain when he refused to untie her. She was still a human and he was still a turian. They were, for all intents and purposes, at war.

All of that, and other, more complicated emotions that Garrus couldn't recognize or name properly, were reasons why he was baffled by his affection for her.

She was very intelligent. That was clear from the first words they exchanged and it was something he tried to keep in mind at all times. He had no doubt that if she wanted, she could probably maneuver a conversation with him for her own gain. But beyond that, she was surprisingly... hardy. If he weren't so afraid of her, Garrus would have called her stubborn.

Oh, right. She was also _scary_. Not on purpose, probably, but that N7 on her armor was like a sigil of danger. She had been trained and experienced in killing, probably killing turians.

So with all those things, it wasn't all that surprising that his own feelings for Shepard weren't clear or even constant. He wanted to sort those feelings out, decide if she was enemy or friend, but that was tricky in his current situation.

He would also like to talk to her. _Really_ talk to her, not just by messages. Hence the translator idea.

Garrus had never tried translating an alien language before. There was easy access to files to download on pretty much every dialect from every nation on every planet in Citadel space, so he had never bothered learning. Should he have?

"That should do it," he muttered once the file transfer was complete. He had no idea if her primitive omnitool would be able to process the data properly. "Does it work?" He glanced back at Shepard and had to do a double-take.

Her expression was one he hadn't seen yet, something between a smile and surprised awe. She whispered something, so quietly than he probably wouldn't have understood even if the translator were done. Her cheeks now had slightly more color than earlier. A blood rush, "blush" as the humans contracted it. Why?

Garrus tilted his head, a habit he had gone into while talking with her in order to show confusion.

"What is it?"

Shepard tapped a quick message on her omnitool, then looked up at him, smiling with shy embarrassment.

Garrus felt something akin to amusement when his own omnitool pinged and he learned the reason she was so flustered.

_I like your voice._

He reflexively smiled, baring his fangs, and just as quickly closed his mouth, not wanting to scare her.

"...Thanks," he said, sheepish. He wasn't sure how to respond to that compliment.

He now decided that this was way more awkward than communicating by texting.

She said something that Garrus suspected was a question.

He held up a finger. "I still don't..."

There was a moment of silence. Garrus breathed out slowly. _This is pointless._

Shepard picked up a small twig and absently drew swirls in the dust with it.

She sighed.

So did he.

Silence again, but this one felt forced and frustrated. (Or maybe it was his own frustration that reflected in his view of the situation.)

"I... brought you some food." Garrus slowly reached into his knapsack. He was still avoiding moving too fast. It probably wouldn't startle her, but every time _she_ made a sudden move, it still made his heart jump. He pulled out the two round rolls he had found the other day. It seemed to be breadstuff of some sort - a baked wheat powder-based dough, as far as he could tell. "Here. Take it."

Shepard eyed the food (and Garrus) suspiciously, but she eventually shuffled closer, grabbed the rolls, and moved away from him once again.

She said something. A short message, perhaps one word. Her expression had changed diametrically and Garrus winced, painfully aware of what she must have thought about.

"I didn't kill them," he said, although he doubted if she would ever believe him. "The human soldiers I found this on. They were already dead." He sighed. "You need this more than they do."

She bit on her lower lip, clearly torn between her pride (because that's what Garrus suspected it was; pride, not morals) and the very clear hunger. She glared at the turian almost as if it was his fault she was going through this.

Garrus watched in silence as she sank her teeth into the slightly dried out bread. Human canines, he noticed, were somewhat sharpened in comparison to the rest of their teeth. This slightly undermined his herbivore theory, but he didn't dare ask Shepard if she was capable of eating meat, especially not now when she was already mad at him.

She finished eating within a minute and Garrus noticed with a slight pang of guilt that can't have been enough to sate her.

Garrus was still slightly scared of her, but he gathered the courage to break the silence.

"...Can you drink water?"

Water was as neutral as it came—at least that was what he'd assumed when he'd first brought her a canteen a few days earlier. He'd always found it empty later, but he had never actually seen her drink.

Shepard nodded.

He passed her his canteen and again waited in silence until she emptied it. Her throat tightened and relaxed as she drank. Garrus wondered why her neck was so exposed. Any predator could easily rip it apart. (The fact that he even had that thought deeply disturbed him.)

She wrote him a message on her omnitool.

Garrus warily opened it, afraid she might be still mad at him.

_Thank you._

"It's the least I could do," he mumbled. He felt responsible for her at this point. As if her injury was his fault.

His omnitool pinged again.

 _I wish we could talk_.

"Me, too. But the amount of data required for even the most basic language pack... I have no idea how to do it. My translator would decode grammar if it only had an example..."

 _Like what you did_.

Garrus felt himself grow nervous. "It's just a theory. But I assume... yes." He nervously tapped his talons on the canteen. "...Would you be willing to try?"

_Of course._

Her expression was one of slightly irritated certainty.

"...Great! That's... great. I'll just need to set this up and... You'll need to talk for a while."

She almost laughed and uttered an amused sentence in her own language.

Garrus tilted his head.

 _That should_ ** _not_** _be a problem_.

Feeling excited like a youngling, he ran the translation program and once he was sure it worked, he established eye contact with the human and nodded his head.

Slowly, hesitantly, Shepard started speaking. Her words were uncertain and fracted at first, but it didn't take her very long to fall into a rhythm.

She kept talking and Garrus had no idea what the words meant—if that strangely melodic, even sound was even words at all—but the sound of her voice intrigued him. Humans only had one set of vocal cords (unless Shepard's were damaged—which he couldn't really rule out, taking the circumstances) and he felt slightly uneasy without hearing that additional information in someone's voice when they spoke, but that didn't lessen his curiosity at all.

He put away his gun, for the first time ever leaving himself completely exposed in her presence.

Shepard either didn't notice or didn't care, focused on the story she was telling.

Garrus smiled, watching the way her facial expression changed along with the story she was telling, and tried to guess the general meaning of her words only from that observation. While human faces allowed for a lot of non-verbal communication, he found himself at a loss when it came to deciphering feelings more nuanced than just the most basic emotions.

Her green eyes sparkled with a yellowish tint as she spoke, excited about whatever it was that she was talking about. Garrus hoped she wouldn't notice him staring at her, but he couldn't quite look away.

Shepard's cheeks and nose were dotted with tiny patches of darker skin. Garrus had no idea what the spots were or why humans had them, but he was guessing it was something similar to his own colony markings. Whatever purpose they served, he had to admit the brownish-orange dots only complemented her features.

He tried to focus on her face as she spoke, but every now and then, he couldn't help drifting toward her fringe—her _hair_. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. Even if in some aspects humans resembled asari, this one part of their physique was undoubtedly alien.

Garrus wondered what it would be like to touch it. Was it rigid or soft? Could you feel every individual thread or was it a single mass? What about the small hairlines above her eyes? Were those of the same texture? And what was their purpose? Would she let him touch them if he asked? He doubted _that_.

Shepard cleared her throat and with all the embarrassment in the world, Garrus had to admit that he had been staring at her... hair, was it?

He chuckled awkwardly, embarrassed of himself. "Sorry."

"No, I just..." She nodded at the translator that lay on the ground between them. "It's done... Right?"

He blinked, staring at her like a fool. Even now, when speaking his language, her voice lacked the subvocals he was so used to hearing. It was a... very intriguing experience. Oddly unsettling. He understood her perfectly and yet... there was something missing.

Garrus nodded slowly.

"...Yes," he managed to choke out. The gravity of the situation just started dawning on him somewhere around now.

This was probably the first time anyone of their two species had shared a conversation.

There was a short moment of silence that felt—at least to Garrus—very solemn.

"...Hi," he said eventually. His throat tightened.

"Hi," Shepard repeated. She smiled shyly. "...It's a pleasure to finally talk to you, Lieutenant Vakarian."

"Likewise, Commander Shepard," he replied ceremoniously.

Silence again. _What now?_ He didn't want their conversation to end so soon and was desperately looking for some way to keep it going. He grabbed on to the first subject that came to mind.

"When I asked you to provide data for the translator... What were you talking about? You seemed very excited about it."

Shepard huffed, content.

"I was describing the proper maintenance of an assault rifle."

He bared his fangs. "Right... Of course you were."

It was getting late now. He had never stayed that long before, but right now he didn't want to leave. Not after they'd finally broken the barrier that had separated them for so long.

They were crossing a line now. He knew it and she knew it as well.

Not like the very existence of their relationship wasn't already crossing a line.

Garrus realized—with much more fear than any other emotion—that he had come to think of her as one of his closest friends. (Very dangerous, considering the only way their relationship could end was with one of them killing the other.) Shepard was no longer a human he was taking care of—she was someone he was taking care of who happened to be a human.

"Can I... say something?" Shepard's voice had that whispery roughness Garrus had come to associate with soldiers.

He nodded quickly.

"I..." She crossed her legs on the floor in a pose which made Garrus's joints hurt just from looking. Just another reminder that she was an alien. "I... Thank you. For saving my life. I... I needed to say it aloud."

"I..." Garrus hesitated. _You're welcome_ sounded shallow and inappropriate to the situation and every alternative he came up with was probably going to get lost in the translation. He was painfully aware of just how rudimentary the lexicon of his translator was for now.

"You don't have to answer," Shepard said. "I'm just happy to be able to say it."

"And I to hear it." _What the hell was_ that _supposed to_ _mean?!_ Sometimes he hated himself.

"I hate debts." Shepard looked aside. "But I am now indebted to you. You did something... so incredibly kind... and so incredibly _brave_... that I don't know how to ever repay you."

Her words caught him by surprise. Up until now, their conversation had consisted of awkward half-sentences and all of a sudden she was being so heartfelt? Garrus felt a strange knot in his stomach.

"It didn't feel brave at the time," he said quietly. "I felt like the greatest coward... I still do sometimes. Any other turian would have killed you on sight."

Shepard looked away. "I'm glad it wasn't any other turian, then."

"Ah..." The armor plates on his neck ruffled slightly. He swallowed, kind of uneasy with the way his body responded to the conversation between them. "So you are."

He found himself almost vibrating with barely concealed anticipation, like when awaiting a battle.

The silence that followed was no longer caused by the lack of possible communication and while at first Garrus found it as inhibiting as the ones that had come before it, he soon realized the air didn't hang nearly as heavy above them now.

His eyes drifted towards Shepard again and he found the soldier observing him carefully. As always, he shuddered under her beady look.

She cleared her throat, for the first time somewhat bemused.

"...I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I've been staring."

Garrus chuckled nervously. "So have I... I guess it can't be helped."

"Hah... No, it can't," Shepard agreed. "I'm just as curious about you as you're of me, you know... It's only natural."

She leaned back as far as her wounds allowed.

"You're different from the other turians I've seen."

He exhaled through his nose, amused.

"I would imagine I am." For some reason, he felt some perverse kind of pride because of those words from her.

He looked at her from over the fire.

"How do you tell your males from your females?" he asked.

"Different body proportions and shape. But..." Shepard laughed. "It's funny. We actually wonder the same about your people." She bit her lip, amused. "You all look very similar to us."

Garrus blinked slowly, looking into the emerald depth of one of her eyes. That confession had formed a question in his mind that he couldn't shake away. At first, it stemmed from his pride and feelings for her, but the more he thought about it, the more it caused genuine curiosity from him.

He couldn't help it. He had to ask. His teeth shone with the reflected light of the fire as he spoke.

"Would you be able to recognize _me?"_

Shepard moved back, surprised.

She tilted her head, looking at him analytically for a while. An amused smile spread onto her features.

"Of course." She reached out to poke his visor. "You always wear this thing."

He honestly had no idea if she was joking or not.

"And would _you_ recognize _me?"_

"Easily," Garrus scoffed. "Your fringe is the color of flames."

"I could cut it."

"Wouldn't that hurt?!" He stirred, nightmares of losing his own fringe coming crashing hard into his mind.

"Not more than it hurts when you file your talons." She shrugged, unaffected by his outburst. "Probably less."

Garrus inhaled deeply, trying to calm down his beating heart. _I suppose we're not so similar after all..._ But that was exactly what made this moment so exhilarating. This was perhaps his only chance to treat a human as something else than just an enemy to eliminate. Their only chance to learn things about the other they never would learn in different circumstances.

Well, there was _one_ thing he had always wondered about humans... But he had no idea how many lines he would be crossing by doing it.

He shut his eyes. _If we're already crossing lines tonight... Might as well ask._

"Can I touch your... hair?" the unfamiliar word rolled off his tongue with more vibrato than he would have liked.

She nodded her head—a sign that seemed to be universal in any culture.

Garrus reached out towards her slowly and carefully, as if afraid she might shatter into pieces under his touch.

She shut her eyes and her breath got funny for a moment when his hand grazed her neck, but she didn't flinch.

It came as a shock to Garrus, but he really admired her for that. She awoke some solemn respect in him. He had been afraid of her, but he rarely stopped to consider how afraid of him _she_ must have been. (After all, he wasn't as soft and squishy-looking as her.)

The texture of her hair between his fingers was completely alien. Even though he looked for something to compare the feeling to, he came up with nothing.

"It's... soft," he said quietly. It was the only thing that came to his mind.

Shepard nodded slowly, although she was still trembling whenever his sharp talons came anywhere near her throat. Her breathing was steady, though, and slowly, she dared to open her eyes.

Garrus moved his hand higher, closer to her eye level, continuing his exploration with silent awe. The texture of hair on the top of her head was slightly different: rougher and less flexible under his touch. He realized with some surprise and underhanded amusement, that all of the hair grew from the top and back of her hair, even the strands that fell down her shoulders.

He ran his talons through the orange-red waves of her hair for a while longer, trying to savor and remember the feeling he knew he would never get to experience again, but eventually, he took his hand back.

Shepard was looking at him with big, shining, green eyes.

Garrus didn't know what to say now—and he probably would wonder for longer, had Shepard's next words not thrown him off his rhythm.

"Can I touch your topknot?"

He almost panicked, his hand unwittingly tracing along his fringe, wondering how he should answer, until he suddenly realized what she meant.

"We call it a crest..."

"Crest," she repeated. "That word already has a meaning in my language... But it's appropriate." She blinked, her emerald green eyes meeting his sky blue ones in a way that made his breath get caught up in his throat. "May I touch it?"

He had no idea how intimate of an act touching one's hair was in human culture, but he knew that all possible lines had been crossed by now and he had to reciprocate somehow—he could understand why that idea was the one she had come up with, probably. But to let anyone he'd only known for a few weeks to touch him there, human or not...

He nodded his head, not unlike the way she had earlier.

Shepard shuffled a bit closer, her good hand reaching towards his face. Garrus didn't close his eyes like she had when he'd touched her, but he had to put all of his willpower into keeping his breath steady.

She touched his cheek first, then made her way up his brow plates and fringe all the way to his crest. Her fingers briefly touched his skin and he almost shuddered at her touch, moved to his very core. All he could focus on now was breathing.

Then, he looked at her and saw her face just barely millimeters away from his, so near their noses were almost touching.

Breathing was hard now. He stared at her, mesmerized by the calmness in her eyes, while she traced her fingers along the edges of his fringe.

His breaths were short and shallow now. He couldn't focus on anything but the human soldier in front of him.

She was close. Very close. Closer than any human had ever been to a turian, probably. Certainly closer than most turians had been to Garrus.

He didn't need to ask or guess. _This_ kind of closeness was incredibly intimate in _any_ culture, alien or not. _This is wrong. This is wrong._

Their eyes met, emerald green crashing with sky blue in some strange understanding.

Garrus would later tell himself that she moved first—but the truth was that they both closed the distance between them at the same time, pushed by some strange overwhelming emotion they couldn't comprehend, a heavy electricity that filled the air between and around them.

Shepard's lips were warm and soft, even softer than he'd expected, and when she kissed him it felt like this was the way it was supposed to be. All of a sudden the idea of doing this with a turian felt forced and rigid, free of the flexibility this small red-haired human brought with her. A spark jumped between them.

Garrus slowly raised his hand to put it on her cheek. Her skin was much warmer than his hide, almost as if she had a fever. He closed his eyes, losing himself in the taste of her lips on his mouth and the feeling of her hands massaging the sensitive skin on the back of his neck.

He ran his talons through her hair, probably tangling it in the messiest ways possible, and was surprised at the sound that originated in his subvocals and vibrated through his chest.

Shepard pulled away, seemingly startled.

Garrus stared at her, completely shocked, not sure if he should apologize or pretend like nothing had happened, or...

She swallowed—he could see the way her throat tightened and relaxed in the motion.

"Did—Did you... just... purr?" She asked quietly and uncertainly, weighing every word with care.

Garrus panicked, thinking very hard to come up with a way to respond to that question without saying yes. He didn't like the idea that a human would know what purring was—especially _this_ human, the one who had somehow managed to elicit it from him.

And all of a sudden, he didn't feel paralyzed anymore.

He quickly moved away, crawling a few good meters away from her.

"This was wrong," he said, panting. He looked at her and she seemed so innocent, with her huge green eyes and her small human frame... You could almost forget she'd killed countless turians before. And he had, for a moment. "We made a mistake."

"I thought you enjoyed it..." Shepard bit on her lower lip. She seemed ashamed now.

"I did!" Garrus grabbed his head. "No, but that's wrong! This never should have happened!" There was an uncomfortable tightness in his gut, like he was about to regurgitate. It wasn't that he had kissed a human. It was that he had enjoyed it so much. "What we did was wrong!"

"Garrus." It was the first time she ever said his name and in an instant, he decided that he liked the way it sounded in her voice. She looked at the ground. "You're not the type who would take advantage of me in this situation, are you?"

"Take advantage of you how?" If there was something she was insinuating, he was missing it. He had already _told_ her he wasn't keeping her prisoner. She had to know he wasn't going to try to get information from her. He had made his intents as clear as he knew possible. They were only to save her life. Maybe his reasons were selfish: not to feel like a murderer, to be able to somehow take a stand against this ridiculous conflict he had been forced to partake in... But he had never intended to harm her. Not _really_.

"I thought I..." She looked away. "I'm sorry. I misjudged—"

He saw the way her eyes were shining and he realized he _had_ harmed her.

"No, really, I..." His voice got caught up in his throat. Shepard looked at him, clearly about to argue. "I should go."

Moving quickly, he stumbled out the door and shut it behind himself, still breathing heavily.


	3. Chapter 3

"Idiot!"

Garrus punched the wall angrily. His self-preservation instinct kicked in at the last fraction of a second and he slowed down the blow slightly, but it still hurt.

How had it come to this?! He had never been supposed to get attached to the human, much less actually fall in—

No. Not _that_.

He grabbed his head.

"Damn it!" he roared. Why?! Why the hell did she have to be human?! It was like some twisted nightmare he couldn't wake up from.

He put his fist through the wall again. "Damn it!" He should have killed her the moment they met.

He leaned his head on the wall, facefirst. "I'm such an idiot," he whispered.

What was he supposed to do now? He couldn't go back in there now—he wouldn't be able to face her—but he couldn't _not_ go back, either. She was his prisoner and if he didn't bring her vital supplies, she'd die sooner or later.

_Prisoner...?_ He shut his eyes, once again thinking about how much of an idiot he was. He had literally no reason to keep her in that basement other than his fear that she'd murder him the moment he untied her. (Which, after the events of this night, seemed rather unlikely.)

"Should have shot her on sight," he muttered to himself as he slumped down the wall to eventually sit on the floor. "Should have just killed her."

He didn't return to camp that night. He stayed in the same house she was staying, sleeping through the night curled in a little ball on the floor.

Not that he got that much sleep that night. He spent the whole time staring down the hallway and waiting for someone to come along. He was prepared to kill them on sight, human or turian. Minutes passed in silence, then hours, and Garrus lay on the floor just outside the door to the basement, falling asleep and waking up irregularly, unable to really get any rest.

He kept one hand on his pistol the whole time.

* * *

The morning came crashing down upon his head worse than any hangover he'd ever had.

It was strange how the feeling of guilt could manifest itself in entirely physical symptoms. It did _kind of_ feel like a hangover, Garrus had to admit (mostly due to lack of a better analogy). His throat was dry and slightly sore and there was a pounding in his head that he couldn't trace back to anything that had actually happened to him in those last few days.

Mostly because those last few days, he'd been trying to avoid fighting altogether and—something he had never done before meeting Shepard—be careful. He couldn't die on her now, when he was her only way out of the abandoned basement he'd locked her in. (Saying it like that did _not_ make him look good.) He was as confident in his skills as ever, but he also knew luck played a big part on the battlefield... So he kept his head low.

For the first time in his life, he actually had someone waiting for him to come back, and that made him cautious and more aware of the dangers of war.

War... _This damn war_. A lack of communication—that was all that'd caused it. Now that Garrus had actually had a chance to talk to a human officer, he was more sure of that than ever.

"Right... Talk." He shut his eyes and hissed lowly, his own voice echoing in his head extremely loudly.

Talk. With _her_. That was the main problem right now... The problem he should do something about. If only he knew what to do. His options were pretty slim and almost all of them included talking to Shepard, (which he was hoping to avoid). The ones that didn't involved her dying within the next few days (which seemed even worse).

_Why did you go ahead and kiss her, you idiot?!_ He knocked his fist at his crest.

"Wait. _She_ kissed _me_ first." He groaned. "Ugh! Why did I kiss her _back?!"_ He hated himself.

Why did she have to be human? If she weren't, everything would have been easier and...

...and, Garrus realized grimly, she wouldn't have been the same person. No, her humanity defined her as much as his own race defined _him_. It was who she was and changing it would be changing Shepard's very identity.

Spirits, he couldn't stop thinking about her. Up until yesterday, he could explain that off by saying that she could kill him or get him killed, but now that seemed like a weak argument. The simple fact was that that small red-headed human was in his head _constantly_. The way she spoke, the way she smiled, and frowned, and the way her eyebrows and cheeks and nose moved in so many different ways, showing emotions so nuanced Garrus couldn't begin to read them, and the way she remained proud and defiant even when entirely at his mercy, and the way she looked at him as her equal and not some monster, and the way she'd touched that soft patch of skin on his nape almost as if she'd instinctively known that was a sensitive spot, and the way she'd just marched into his life and wrapped it around her finger, making her the center and cornerstone of all his thoughts and decisions, and—

_Damn it._

"...Crap," Garrus mumbled. "Have I been... falling for her...?"

That thought was concerning to say the least. He had been operating under the assumption the way he felt about her was just a crush, a purely physical attraction. It was exhilarating, after all—all the things that set them apart, all the fundamental differences between their species... And the way he considered her a friend made physical attraction possible. He no longer saw humans as hostile aliens, now that he'd connected with one on an emotional level and knew they were just as intelligent as any turian.

But, damn it all to hell, this wasn't _it_ , was it?

It _wasn't_ just a crush.

He leaned his head back, his back pressed against the door that separated them. It was thin for a door, but as a barrier it worked perfectly. She might have been on the other side, but he sure as hell couldn't see her.

"What do I do?" he whispered.

He didn't like that small voice in the back of his head which said that he knew exactly what he had to do.

He didn't _want_ to do that! There had to be some way to stick to the status quo, to stay like this forever. He enjoyed her company. He wanted things to stay like they were. He wanted more time with her.

But that would also mean denying the woman he loved some of her very basic freedoms. _That_ wasn't love.

"Damn it." He was going to do it, wasn't he?

He hung his head.

"...Damn it."

* * *

"Your wounds are almost healed - if you don't push yourself too hard, you're going be just fine. The turian forces in this area have long since turned back to defence. As long as you head north, you should be able to find your people."

"I don't understand," Shepard said quietly. It was the first thing she'd said since Garrus had walked into the room and had started cleaning it out. In all honesty, it was the only thing she could say in her current situation.

Garrus pushed his knapsack into her arms. "There's some water and fresh bandages inside. Some medi-gel, but I would be careful before wasting that." He clenched his mandibles. This was even harder than he'd expected. "I left your guns by the door. You can retrieve them if you want, but I took out the ammo."

"I... don't understand," she repeated. "What are you doing?"

He gritted his teeth. "Shepard, I'm letting you go." He hated everything. He hated himself. He hated that this was the right thing to do and he hated how his stupid conscience told him to do it.

He took down the restraints binding her.

"Now go."

She looked at him without a word.

"Go!"

Moving faster than he'd ever expect her to, she grabbed his wrist.

"Who do you take me for?" she growled. "Do you think I'm going to turn tail and run just because you raised your voice at me?"

Garrus felt a strange tightness in his throat as she stared at him with dangerously narrowed eyes. Her grip on his arm loosened a little.

"I'm not someone you get to push around, Garrus."

Despite the situation, he found extreme comfort in her still using his first name to address him.

"Just..." he choked out, "...leave."

Shepard knit her brows. "One question. Please. Just... tell me one thing."

Garrus breathed out. Every single moment this dragged on was surprisingly painful for him. "...Fine."

"Why did you save me?"

He managed to withstand the way she was looking at him.

"I _was_ going to shoot you, but... you were unconscious." He swallowed. "...I thought you looked helpless."

"Helpless." She took a step towards him. "I can think of at least ten different ways I could kill you _right now_ , you know."

He shut his eyes, feeling the same kind of fear he always did whenever she was around. That fear had dwindled over time, but now it was easily the same size as when he'd first seen her.

"Shepard, I..."

"Jane." Her voice was flat, she didn't look at him. "You will call me Jane, and never for once do I want you to stray towards the militaristic with me." Her voice faltered ever so slightly. "That could prove unpleasant."

Ah. Garrus understood. So they _both_ were playing this game they had been forced into.

He nodded his head.

"I'm going to let you go now," Shepard said slowly. "Don't do anything..." She hesitated, looking for the correct word. "...you know."

"I'm not going to hurt you." _Anymore_. He didn't say that last part aloud.

"Damn right you're not."

He had a _gun._ She had _nothing._ How come she was the one in charge in this situation?!

She let him go and he almost instinctively massaged his wrist. Damn. Humans sure could be a lot stronger than they looked.

Garrus reached to his holster and was dumbfounded. Yeah, his gun was there, sure enough, but he was pretty sure there was no ammo inside.

"Yeah, um..." Shepard cleared her throat awkwardly as she held up the thermal clip. "I _like_ you, but I don't _trust_ you."

He smiled bitterly. "Understandable." He didn't point out the obvious fact that if he wanted to kill or even hurt Shepard, he would have done so already. Her caution was still completely justified, given the circumstances.

She knelt down by the fire where Garrus had placed her armor almost three weeks earlier. Had it really just been three weeks? He couldn't remember a time when she wasn't in his life.

Garrus watched in silence as she picked up the chestplate and began methodically strapping it on. (The most interesting part was the way her legs were bent as she squatted. How did humans even _walk_ with legs like that...? They were missing some crucial joins down there.)

_They're a_ _liens_ , Garrus reminded himself. _There's no reason for them to look like us._ And over those past few weeks, he'd actually learned they were more similar than it seemed.

Not similar _enough_.

She gathered up her things and once she was clad in full body armor (save for the helmet— _that_ Garrus had not managed to find anywhere), with that scarily large arsenal of weapons, she looked to Garrus once again like what she was - an N7 designated officer. An enemy soldier just waiting to strike.

He stirred.

_I wonder if that's how she saw me all this time..._ He looked down, letting her go on ahead. (It was only _partially_ because he was scared of turning his back on her.)

"I've missed fresh air." Shepard took in a theathrically deep breath.

Garrus didn't say anything. He just watched as she stretched her body, standing on the front porch of the house and bathed in the cool orange glow of the morning sun. She didn't seem so far now. If he just reached out, he could touch her. Maybe hold her hand. Maybe...

He gritted his teeth.

None of that was right. He needed to put some distance between them if he was to _ever_ get rid of those feelings. He didn't want them. He didn't want the hurt. And that was the only thing he could tell for certain: he _would_ get hurt, no matter what happened from now on. There was no way out.

That was why he was letting her go. Maybe at least _one_ of them could be happy.

"Now you're just staring at my ass," Shepard said. "Can't blame you, but _stop_. After the way you ran off yesterday, you don't get to." She stood upright, one hand resting on her hip and the other absently flicking on and off the safety on a small human handgun. "And, uh, while on the subject..."

"We don't have to talk about it," Garrus said quickly.

"Good! Because nothing happened." Shepard crossed her arms. "So there's nothing _to_ talk about."

"Right."

"Right."

The silence between them was easily as awkward as those during that first week.

"God, this is stupid." Shepard ran a hand through her hair. "Listen, I... I'm... not good at goodbyes. But... You helped me when no one else would have—and for that, I will always be grateful. No matter what."

"I..." He lingered like that for a while, mouth open while his brain tried to come up with somethin—anything—to respond to that with. "...don't know what to say."

Shepard shook her head.

She stood on her toes, probably hoping to kiss him on the cheek. She only reached as far as his mandible.

"Goodbye, Garrus Vakarian." She smiled bitterly. "I hope we don't ever meet again... for both our sakes."

He slowly touched his mandible where she'd kissed him.

"For both our sakes," he said quietly, "I hope we can meet again in different circumstances."

Shepard shook her head.

"I don't see that happening." She looked up at the sky and smiled lightly. "You know... I think... In a different life, I think we could have been friends. Good friends. Maybe even..." She trailed off, but he didn't need her to finish. Saying it aloud was too painful. "Well. It wasn't meant to be."

"...Right," Garrus whispered as he watched her walk away. "Maybe it wasn't. Goodbye, Jane Shepard."

He stood in that place for a few more minutes, longingly gazing after the woman until eventually her silhouette got so small and blurry he could no longer recognize it.

Then he picked up his backpack, threw his sniper rifle over his shoulder, and walked away in the opposite direction.


	4. Chapter 4

War was chaos.

Soldiers ran among the half-destroyed, burning buildings, blinded by the smoke and gas on the street, trying to stay alive and kill the enemy at the same time. Most of them didn't even know where they were. Most of them shot blindly, never saw the faces of the people they killed. Most of them were free from the horror. They didn't have to look their shortcomings in the eye as they came to haunt them.

Garrus looked through the scope of his sniper rifle, following a human soldier who tried desperately to get to cover. He patiently waited until she inevitably stopped to take a breather.

He pulled the trigger and the woman collapsed. Red blood stained the street below.

_The cycle_ _continues_ , he thought.

It had been... what? a week? two weeks? since he'd said goodbye to Shepard. In that time he had killed so many humans he honestly doubted if that one act of mercy even mattered in the big picture.

It would make sense if he said he missed her, but it wouldn't be the truth. He hadn't felt any emotion save for random fits of sadness for a long time.

It wasn't in his nature to second guess himself.

He never once regretted letting her go. He knew it was the right choice and that in the long run, they both would end up better off. He never once wished he had done things differently... He'd done all that he could in his position, probably. He _had_ saved that woman's life, even if at cost of his own sanity.

There hadn't been one day that he hadn't thought about her.

_I'm going crazy_ , Garrus thought. It couldn't be healthy to think that much about one person. Especially one he probably would never see again.

Occasionally he wondered if _she_ thought about _him_ sometimes too. But every time he did, he chased those thoughts away. Threw himself into work to forget.

He reloaded his sniper rifle, all the while looking out the window in search of any danger. He still remembered that explosion earlier. This time he hadn't made the same mistake as then, instead of that setting up on the second floor. Closer to the ground. A worse vantage point, sure, but in case the building collapsed...

He shook his head slightly. "Come on now, focus."

He reached for his sniper rifle, but before he got to pick it up, the sound of muffled footsteps from behind him caught his ear.

Someone opened the door and Garrus immediately drew his gun, ready to shoot, but he lowered it as soon as he recognized Chellick.

"My bad," he mumbled. He holstered the pistol back on his hip. "Thought you were a human."

"Come on, Garrus. I'm not _that_ ugly yet, am I?" Chellick laughed good-heartedly.

Garrus didn't share that laugh.

"...They're not so bad," he said quietly.

Chellick tilted his head. "You've been acting strange lately."

"Mhm." Garrus absently agreed as he reloaded his sniper rifle. He wasn't going to _argue_ with that. It was the truth. "...Damn war."

"I don't think the Hierarchy expected humans to be so resilient when this all started," Chellick snorted. "This is a hot mess."

Garrus nodded. "That it is."

It had escalated much quicker than anyone could have expected. The initial military decisions had been made under the assumption that humans were still a primitive species. It had taken a few weeks of fighting until the turians realized they were killing intelligent people, at that point too late to back out. So it had escalated into a full-out war. Most fighting was still focused around Shanxi, though, and honestly, Garrus didn't even want to _wonder_ what it was like out there. Probably a slaughter. The worst part was the humans were surprisingly determined and even with their primitive weapons had managed to rack up the bigger kill count.

Garrus sighed, tapping his foot against the wall. Some of the drywall fell off.

"No chance for a peaceful resolution of this whole thing now," he mumbled. "Not when they're winning."

Chellick gave him a sour smile. "That's how we are, isn't it?" He shook his head. "We pride ourselves as the best military in the Milky Way. Can't exactly give in to a group of primitives. Damn turian pride... Hasn't done us any good."

"Humans aren't primitives," Garrus said quietly. "They're just aliens. That's it."

"And I suppose you're an expert?"

"...No," Garrus answered hesitantly. He grabbed his sniper rifle. "I'm not."

"Let's go. Captain wants us to move out before we all get killed." Chellick put on his helmet. "We're losing ground here. And can't get in contact with other units."

"Think they're jamming the comms?" Garrus pushed his helmet onto his head.

"That would mean they're much more advanced than we assumed."

"You'd be surprised."

"Glad I found you as soon as I did, honestly." Chellick scratched his neck. "We're still missing four marines. By any estimates they're probably dead, but..." He gestured at the street outside. "With all those empty buildings, it's anyone's guess."

Garrus looked out the window. "I'll go left. You go right. Meet up in 200."

"Sounds good."

* * *

Garrus kicked the door open.

He wasn't expecting to find anyone in this room, but infrared readings relayed to his visor suggested there _could_ be _some_ _kind_ of lifeform hiding in the building. Could be a turian marine, one of his missing squadmates. Could be a human soldier. Could just as well be a rat or a cockroach.

Empty. Just like all the rooms on the three stories below.

He relaxed his tensed shoulders. The sooner this was over, the better. He didn't like the whole situation anyway.

He made his way down the stairs quickly enough as not to waste time but also carefully enough as not to attract unwanted attention.

The street was empty. Garrus found this absence of a straightforward firefight even more unnerving than the chaos that had reigned here a few hours earlier.

A cold shiver went down his spine.

_And Chellick said we can't get in contact with other units..._ _Damn. Wonder what Captain Verilius will do now._ It wasn't that Garrus mistrusted his commanding officer. It was that there was no clear way out of the situation.

He drew his pistol and charged into the next building. Hall was empty.

He quickly scouted out the kitchen. Empty.

Garrus looked around, uneasy. His visor was still flashing all sorts of data at him, especially how he was not alone here.

A large spider jumped off the cupboard and ran across the floor at his feet before eventually disappearing in a dark hole in the wall.

_I guess that's that_.

Garrus walked towards the last door with much more confidence than before. He swung it open without much thought, at that point just going through the motions.

He stared, shell-shocked, at the human soldier who in turn stared at him with an equal amount of shock.

"Uh..." Garrus tightened his grip on his pistol, but he didn't shoot, seeing that the man wasn't carrying a weapon.

"Oh my God... I don't wanna die!"

"I'm not going to _kill_ you," he scoffed. "You're unarmed. How's that any different than murder?"

The human shrieked as he backed away into the wall. _What a weakling. Shepard never would have screamed._ Garrus shut his eyes as soon as that thought crossed his mind.

Why couldn't he stop thinking about it even now?! There was nothing he could do. Then why?

"Here's the thing, though," he exclaimed, exasperated. "Even if I _did_ manage to save her life, what difference does it make?! She's just one person. She can't alter the course of this war. So what's the point if we're just gonna die anyway? Not long from now, you're gonna be dead and I'm gonna be dead—well, _I'm_ not. I'm scrappy—but the point still stands. Is this all for nothing?" The human didn't answer. Garrus put a hand to his forehead. "I'm _actually_ asking you!"

His words had no effect on the frightened soldier.

_He doesn't understand me_ , Garrus realized. After all that'd happened in the last month, he'd almost forgotten humans spoke a different language.

"Just... get out of here."

The man didn't understand the words, but he understood the tone. It took him barely more than a second to turn tail and run away.

Garrus sighed.

"What do I get for this?" he complained. That idiot was as good as dead. Someone else was bound to shoot him sooner or later. Shepard was dead, too, probably. There was no place for mercy on the battlefield. In the end, it changed nothing. Even if he didn't directly stain his hands with blood, people still died. There was no point in playing nice.

Garrus sighed.

His joints cracked when he reluctantly stood up, but he paid it no mind. Recently he'd only had one thing on his mind, anyway... Well, one _person_. And she was very painfully out of his reach in more ways than one.

His omnitool pinged, displaying the timer he had set nearly two hours earlier.

"Oh," he said. "Right. I should probably get back to Chellick now."

He definitely didn't want to be left behind, after all.

* * *

Tactical retreat. One of the last things any soldier wants to hear. Garrus was kind of impressed with Captain Verilius for making this call so quickly: were he in his place, he probably would have tried to hold the line longer and probably would have lost more soldiers along the way. As it were, their casualties weren't so bad. Four of the initial six marines in their team were still alive, none of them badly wounded.

But the situation was definitely not good. Not only had they not encountered a single enemy soldier in the last two days, all communication channels seemed to be down. They had no way to communicate with other units in the area, so they didn't even know what the situation was like. They only knew what _their_ situation was like and Garrus was being completely honest when he classified it as crap. So... tactical retreat. Basically just turning tail and looking for any friendlies while also trying to stay alive. It was the only choice they had.

Of course they would walk straight into an ambush.

Garrus gritted his teeth, growling with anger as he looked around at the many, many human soldiers pointing their weapons at them. There must have been at least twenty—scratch that, _thirty_ —of them, easily more than three times the size of his team.

_This is how it ends, huh?_ He gripped his gun a bit tighter. The order to fire would come sooner or later from either side, and he was ready to carry it out.

One of the humans moved slightly, which caused a stressful reaction from literally everyone else. Captain Verilius slowly unholstered his gun.

Garrus flicked off the safety on his own rifle.

Two of the humans were definitely aiming at him.

His heartbeat slowed down slightly.

One of the men narrowed his brows, finger on the trigger.

Garrus suddenly realized that once shots were fired, he was going to be the first one to die and that thought filled him with so much fear that he contemplated shooting without order, his eyes locked on the target and—

"Jenkins, Alenko—hold your fire! Hold your fire, dammit!" The voice was high and commanding, clearly used to giving out orders and having them carried out immediately. "I said _stop_ _!_ And _you_ —yes, you! Don't you dare _do_ anything! Just wait!" She added something more, a chain of words his translator didn't know. "And put your hands down, you look absolutely ridiculous!"

Then she vaulted over the barrier and jumped down onto the road, flaming red hair flowing in the wind.

"Vakarian!"

He couldn't keep his relief and joy inside anymore.

"...Shepard."

He holstered his gun, all of a sudden feeling completely safe even among the dozens of human soldiers ready to shoot him.

Shepard smirked victoriously. Just that. Nothing more. No words of rubbing it in his face, no gestures or poses. Just that smug smirk, saying more prominently than anything else that she'd won.

His feelings for her hadn't changed one bit.

"I told you I'd recognize you," he said with much more confidence than he was feeling.

She tapped his visor with a nail. "And I knew you wouldn't take _this_ off."

She looked at the group of shell-shocked turians who were watching the entire exchange like it was something out of a science-fiction story.

"Can you translate?" The question was directed to Garrus, but she wasn't looking at him when she asked it.

"Of course." Translating right now only equaled to repeating what he'd been told.

She turned to the turians.

"The war's over. You don't need to do this anymore."

Garrus stared at her, surprised. "The what is what...?"

"Translate," she ordered.

He hesitantly did so, even if his own mind was burning with questions. He wouldn't _dare_ disobey an order from Commander Shepard. There was something about her...

"The Council's stepping in, sending their forces to Shanxi to keep us in check, but basically all fighting has stopped by now. I don't suppose your unit got the word yet, but we're at a truce." She paused and Garrus could swear she looked straight at him. "...This whole mess is over now."

Spirits, he loved that woman. He'd never met anyone like her. Anyone who could so easily earn his respect and still leave room for a more casual relationship.

"Vakarian!" Verilius took a step forward, hand still on the handle of his gun. "Was that you or—?"

Garrus was standing between his CO and a human soldier he had known for little more a month and he knew that it was the latter he respected more.

"No, it was... I... I have a jury-rigged translator of their language." He cleared his throat. "I think it's legit, sir."

"So it's over, then?"

"It's... over," Garrus repeated quietly.

"It is," Shepard said. "Garrus. Could you let them know I understand what they're saying?"

"Oh. Um..." He awkwardly pointed at her. "That's Commander Shepard, the officer in charge of this unit. She wanted me to tell you that she's got a translator too."

"Commander!"

Shepard's expression fell immediately, her pollite smile replaced by irritation.

"Here come the pests," she muttered, though Garrus doubted she meant for anyone to hear it.

The two human soldiers who ran up to her seemed to be as irritated as she.

"Commander, please, you can't keep on running off like that. It's not safe."

Slightly surprised, Garrus now realized that Shepard was unarmed. It had completely escaped his notice earlier. Honestly, she had such a strong aura of authority that it didn't seem to matter.

She sighed. "How can I say this...?" She tapped her foot on the floor, her hand on her chin as she thought. "Oh. I know. I'm your commanding officer, Kaidan. I can do whatever I want."

"With all due respect, Commander, we're under orders from the Admiral to—"

Shepard silenced him with a glare.

She turned to Garrus.

"And this is who I have to work with," she said in a tone that was almost apologetic. "Those two won't leave me alone for a moment ever since I disappeared for a month, thank you very much."

"Ma'am, it's our job."

Shepard shook her head, but now she was smiling.

"See, I wanted to find you earlier, but _someone_ made it unnecessarily difficult." She glared at one of the soldiers with her.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but it's hard to find a single turian based only on that, and I quote, _he has a sexy voice._ "

"Shut up, Jenkins."

Garrus opened his mouth, completely dumbstruck.

"You... were... looking for me?" he asked. His heart leapt up in joy.

"Well, yeah. You're a... valuable asset and whatnot." She cleared her throat. "I needed one of your people who could understand us... and, you know, you can't go wrong with a friend." She smiled shyly.

"Do you... think we're friends?"

"Of course. Do you not want me to?"

"No! I do. I really do, I just..."

Shepard looked around. After a moment's deliberation, she grabbed his forearm and led him aside, putting some space between them and the other soldiers, both human and turian.

There was a short moment of silence during which they both just awkwardly smiled at the ground. Shepard nervously played with her hair.

"I'm... really glad I found you," she said finally.

"Listen, Shepard—" He stopped, suddenly rembering his promise. "...Jane. I mean... I'm sorry. Is it okay if I call you Shepard?"

"It's not dangerous anymore, so yes." She nodded quickly. "I don't really care _what_ you call me."

Garrus nodded. _Damn_. He had never hoped the war would end so fast, but even then he had always kind of assumed it would make talking to a human easier. Apparently, talking to _this_ human was _always_ going to send butterflies into his stomach.

"Okay. I, uh... I know we left things on kind of a... weird note, and... Since it's, uh... _legal_ , now... Do you... Do you want to maybe... get... a... drink? Sometime?" _Why am I stuttering so much?!_ This was more difficult than killing a person, somehow.

"Are you trying to ask me out, Vakarian?"

"I... am? I am. I mean..." He inhaled sharply. "If you want— We could... We could try to start this, uh... relationship... at the beginning. Please?"

Garrus wanted to scratch out his eyes. _Why did you add the please, idiot?! As if she didn't respect you little enough._

"That sounds... promising." Shepard smirked, her tongue slipping along her teeth in a way that made Garrus scream internally. Spirits, he _wanted_ her. So much. "I can't wait."

"Really?" So far he had only shown himself as a nervous mess.

"Really." Shepard tilted her head. "I like you. I know you like me. That's really all that matters with those things..." She smiled warmly. "And since the war is over now," she said as she grabbed his hand, "I can freely do _this."_

She stood on her toes and kissed him on the nose. It kind of tickled, and Garrus wrinkled his nose as soon as she moved away.

Shepard covered her mouth, but it was in vain because she still burst into laughter a second later.

"What was _that_?" She laughed. "With the flustered and the nose wiggle?"

"I'm... sorry," Garrus said quickly. "Damn. I've just... ruined a romantic moment here, haven't I? I'm sorry. I'm _really_ not good at these things."

"No, that was... incredibly cute," Shepard giggled.

"It was?" He wrinkled his nose, incidentally earning another laugh from her.

She put her hand on his cheek.

"Yeah," she said. She looked away. "I... think I love you. And I _know_ we've only known each other for a month and it sounds insane, but—"

"It doesn't! I mean, I'm— It's not—" Garrus took a deep breath. "Me too."

"So, um..." Shepard smiled, but she was a bit nervous now, too. "Last time around, we didn't get to do this properly, but—"

This time, Garrus didn't hesitate or wait for her to start. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close enough to kiss her properly this time. Shepard's surprise at his decisiveness only lasted a short second and she welcomed him with all the enthusiasm in the world.

Wow, her tongue was even softer than he had expected. It was unlike anything else. So good. Spirits, it felt so good to finally be able to kiss her without inhibitions.

He closed his eyes, slowly moving his hands up her shoulders. This time she didn't tense up even for a second. Hair! Oh, how he'd missed her hair... He loved it so much.

He fought to keep down his purring after Shepard once again found that sensitive spot on his nape, but it was a battle lost. His entire body vibrated to the rhythm of their kiss, but Shepard didn't pull away this time. If anything, she seemed to enjoy the sound, or the feeling. Maybe both.

She pulled their intertwined bodies down to her height, forcing Garrus to bend down slightly as she did. He growled lowly, displeased at this development, but that sound got lost in the array of moans and purrs from them.

Damn. He couldn't really breathe. The only thing his nose registered was her scent, completely alien and yet at the same time so damn familiar... _Damn_. She smelled like armor grease and flowers, a surprisingly pleasant combination that Garrus breathed in until he no longer could.

He pulled away, gasping at the air, incredibly happy and grinning like an idiot.

"Knew... you'd recognize me," Shepard breathed out.

He laughed—laughed out loud! He'd never thought that's something he could do. What was that woman doing to him?

Still laughing, he threw his head back.

"Your... hair... is _red."_


End file.
